


How She Gets

by madgirlwithabox (lamarnza)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamarnza/pseuds/madgirlwithabox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy Pond cries sometimes, and she doesn't know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How She Gets

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written during s5 while Rory was erased.

She turns to him, tears in her eyes and scissors parallel to her eyes, a thick bunch of hair wrapped around the blade.

“Where did it go?” she begs him, shaking her head. The movement causes a few strands to fall to the ground and the Doctor watches them blankly. “Doctor, answer me. Where did it go?”

“Amy,” he says softly, keeping his voice measured. She’s quivering and he knows what she’s like when she gets like this, when he gets to her. She doesn’t though, and that’s what scares him. As far as she knows, she’s never gotten like this over anyone, and probably never will. “Amy, put down the scissors. You like your hair, don’t cut it off.”

“No. No, I don’t.” She tightens her grip and more thin ginger strands fall to the floor.

“Amelia–”

“Don’t! Just don’t okay!” she screams. The scissors disentangle from her hair like legs from sheets, but only to be waved around her head. “I’m not Amelia! Not to you! You can’t call me that! You lost all right when you-you left me!” She spits out the words, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Only he could call me Amelia.”

The Doctor catches her wrist, biting his lip. He pries the scissors out of her hand and sets them on the kitchen table. “Do you remember who called you Amelia?”

“No. No one does. Don’t be silly.” Amy blinks rapidly, clearing her eyes. She looks at the Doctor, forcing a smile. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. How about the lanova galaxy? Lovely wind they have there.” He strides from the TARDIS kitchen and leaps onto the control platform, carelessly twisting and pulling at knobs and levers. The engines start up and the TARDIS jolts forward as she takes off.

“Wind?” Amy asks, hopping up after him and leaning against the handrail, watching him as he pilots. “Isn’t there a galaxy that’s famous for something a bit more, I don’t know, glamorous.”

“Wind is brilliant, Amy,” The Doctor replies. He pauses, running a tongue over his teeth and pursing his lips. “Blimey. It’s been awhile since I’ve said that. I liked that word. My favorite exclamation. Doesn’t sound nearly as good now.”

Amy rolls her eyes, used to his strange mutterings. Extending her fingers and looking at the neatly painted nails, she pauses yet again. “Doctor?”

“Yes, Amy?” The Doctor knows what’s coming, he’s used to it and prepares his answer.

“Why was I upset?”

“Were you upset Amy?”

Amy wiggles her fingers, frowning. “I think so.”

“I don’t remember you being upset.”

“I thought I was crying.”

“Are you crying now?”

With every word he hates himself a little more.

“No.”

“Do you feel upset?”

“No.”

“Then you’re fine.”

“I-I feel sad. I feel really, really sad.”

The Doctor smiles at her. “What do you have to be sad about, Pond?”

Amy can’t help but smile back. “Nothing, Doctor.”

“That’s right. Nothing. Now come along.”

As he throws open the doors and she runs outside, he looks over his shoulder. The faint image of a scrawny man in a vest ghosts away beside the console.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “You know how she gets though.”


End file.
